


An Unheard of Concept

by kingofneon (orphan_account)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Cameras, Exhibitionism, Lingerie, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kingofneon
Summary: Marco's an idiot, and decides to do a very stupid thing to get rid of an inconvenient crush.





	An Unheard of Concept

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tamrian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamrian/gifts).



> **warnings/tags:** camboy!sabo, seemingly-unrequited-feelings, feelings reveal, vibrators

It’s a pretty stupid idea, Marco is sure. The email was stupid and the request was stupid and his anxiety was stupid too.

But then the remote arrived in his rented post box and Sabo and Ace say that they need to go “shopping for some film supplies” and will be out all day, and Marco’s heart bottoms out.

For what he’d been trying to play off as a “stupid request”, having that confirmation makes his patience wear unbearably thin, and as he watches the clock get closer to 2pm he can’t help but fidget, shifting in his chair. In his pocket is the small remote he’d gotten in his box, along with the easily memorised instructions, and he can’t help but over and over between his fingers, unable to distract himself any other way.

It’s 1:59. His palms are sweaty and his computer screen is still playing the small loading circle on the plain black background of Sabo’s site.

He’s an idiot. He’s insane.

The screen flickers on, to Sabo sitting inside what is obviously a lingerie change room and blushing all the way down to the straps that lace around his throat and shoulders, and Marco’s mouth goes dry.

He’s going to make  _such_  a mess.

Sabo fidgets, hands in loose fists on his knees, and Marco can’t help but lean forward in his chair, studying the flush on Sabo’s face even as Sabo avoids the camera.

“I’ll be too loud,” he says, biting his lip and just a tad less obstinate than he usually is around Marco, and Marco’s never sure if it’s just because Sabo likes to be a sarcastic asshole and this is a stage persona, or if he does have nerves like normal human beings. It’s probably a little bit of both, he can’t help but think, and sets the remote next to his laptop so he can type,

_“Nothing’s happening yet, pretty. Just trying on clothes, aren’t you?”_

It takes a moment for the screen to load, and then he sees Ace’s freckled hand shove the phone into the screen and Sabo’s lips quirk. Before he can say anything else, however, Marco’s next message comes in.

_“And you have safe words for a reason.”_

Sabo’s lips soften into a thankful smile, and he finally turns to properly face the camera, hooking his finger in the leather strap that goes across his collarbone, running his nail across the underside. “What, so you’re telling me you won’t use that remote you requested?”

Marco grins, his eyes flicking to the “gift” he’d gotten.

 _“You’ll have to see, won’t you?”_  he texts, and then closes the chat and sits back to watch the show. Ace’s phone beeps and Sabo’s blush deepens, his tongue flicking across his lips, and he swallows hard as he stands up.

“You’re a mean one,” he says, trying to master his expression into a cocky smirk, and Marco wonders if Sabo would react the same way if he knew that Marco were on the other side, watching every move with a fascination that hadn’t stopped for almost two months.

He hadn’t known it was Sabo at first, not with how cleverly they cut together footage, but the short gasps and the body types were close enough to his as-of-then unrealised crushes that he’d shrugged and enjoyed himself. That video had led to another one before he could stop it, and the girth of the dildo had stopped him from exiting, hand drifting away from the mouse and back down to his zipper again when actual moans of pleasure and whimpering pleads for more filled the air. By that point he’d been lost, and the two accounts and their frequent paired videos had become his favourites.

And then he’d heard the softest gasp of- “Ah,  _Sabo_!” in one video right before it was taken down and reuploaded without that particular soundbite, and Marco was hit by the stunning realization that he hadn’t been invested in these two actors because they were good, but rather because they reminded him of two friends that spent most of their time in his apartment, sharing his space and time and attention.

By then, however, it was too late. The lightning bolt of realization that he was attracted to Ace and Sabo hit the same time as their accounts decided to start taking private requests and live videos, and he was only human and stupidly, aggravatingly tongue-tied. Why did feelings always make conversations previously navigated with ease so much  _harder_?

Now, with typing, he could at least edit - and ignore that Sabo’s behaviour over the past few months had turned from impolite to downright vicious. Every insult made his heart ache, and this video bittersweet. He needed to get over his feelings for them, and so one last video was all he was allowing; one last video to see Sabo’s breathless, panting mouth, bright red from where he’d sunk his teeth into his lip, the curve of his spine and how desperately he’d latch on to the bench in order to try and control himself. Sabo liked to show off, and Marco was going to give him that opportunity before Marco stopped watching their videos altogether.

One last time, and then he was through. Then, he and Sabo could go back to being friends without Sabo trying to distance himself to tell Marco that he was uncomfortable with Marco’s crush, and Ace would be able to sit near him again without fidgeting and making a run for “the bathroom” every 20 minutes.

Just this one weakness of his, and then Marco will take all his feelings and slam dunk them into a funeral pyre where they belonged.

Hopefully without getting burnt in the process.

He shakes his head and quickly turns his attention back to the screen, where Sabo is tugging the first lingerie set Marco had picked off of the coat hangers piled to one side. It was a light blue piece with loose shoulders and a tight collection of chest straps, and Sabo runs it through his fingers and gives a soft smile. “You always have the best taste,” he says, and looks at the camera in such a fond way that Marco has to press his thighs together, “it’s so soft. Even if you don’t buy this for me, I may end up buying it myself.”

Sabo laughs, then sets it down on the bench behind him, nimble fingers going to the catches of the leather he’d been wearing under his clothes for the hour before they’d started this video. As it loosens, he hisses softly, and when he tugs it off Marco takes a slow, deep breath at the sight of his reddened, pinched nipples. He wants to run his tongue along them, wants to flick them so gently with his fingers that tiny whimpers fall from Sabo’s mouth, and he knows how sensitive they’ll be, now, probably sensitive enough to make Sabo tear up should anyone touch them.

“I know I said it before, but you are a mean one.” His lips quirk, and he runs his fingers across his chest, giving a sharp gasp. “Sitting on the bus with this on? Fuck, every time we hit a pothole I had to try and stop myself from whimpering.”

Marco shifts, wetting his lips, and forces himself to lean back in his chair instead of hunching forwards to get closer, as though that will give any more detail to what he’s watching on that screen.

Sabo hums as he takes the bralette from the bench, running it through his hands again, then carefully slips it on, shifting the fabric till it’s settled nicely against his skin. The mirror beside him is graced with a look as he guides his hands down his sides, and Marco watches as he shivers.

His hands stop at the garter belt and the soft black panties beneath them, and he runs his thumb under the elastic, pulling them away from the sharp jut of his hip bones as though he’s demonstrating the colour rather than being a tease. “Not really a nice colour scheme, with the bright blue and black and these socks,” he says, casting a smile at the camera, and then points his foot to show off the stockings Marco had requested he wear. “But these are cute. You like me in this purple, don’t you?”

 _Far too much,_ Marco thinks, remembering the time Sabo had borrowed his shirt and the too-large fabric had slid off his pale shoulder and fell low enough that Marco’s mind had easily been able to imagine Sabo wearing it without boxers on, tiredly coming into Marco’s kitchen to offer him a kiss.

“I like it too,” Sabo says, soft and easy, his lip curved into the same promising smile he used when vowing to Luffy that he’d come over for dinner, but in this there’s something far more mischievous. “I’d like it even more if you-” he pauses, his finger against his lip, and then shrugs, turning back to the clothes. “Ah, but, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to snap the garter against my thigh, would you. Not when it would leave  _such_ bright red lines.”

The camera shifts as Ace fidgets, and Marco’s lips twitch in amusement even as he bites his lip to try and stop the mental image of twanging garter straps against Sabo’s thighs until he couldn’t bear to sit.

“Which one next, baby? Which one do you think our watcher would like best?” Sabo’s hands skim the outfits, and then he pulls out a bright red corset-style piece that makes his lips twitch into a grin. “Christmasy,” he says at the sight of the bow on the front, then adds with a wider grin as he holds it against himself, “am I your present?”

 _If only,_ Marco thinks, but then, to be fair, this video is a gift to himself. A last indulgence before he gives up his feelings, and Sabo’s already made this more than worth it. Marco’s eyes slide to the remote he’d left by his computer, and he runs his finger along it, staring at the untouched buttons.  

As Sabo zips up the back of the dress, Marco hits the highest button once, quickly, then again to stop it. On screen Sabo’s eyes go wide, a gasp flying free of his mouth, and his hips jolt forwards of their own accord. “Guess so,” he says, his eyes still wide and the faintest red on his cheeks, enough to make his face the same colour as the corset. He breathes out slowly, and before he steps forwards gives a tiny shake of his legs, as though testing their strength.

“This is nice, though,” he says, and manages to a smile for the camera. Then his hands flutter to his narrow waist, even tinier because of the tight leather of the corset. “A bit too tight here,” he moves his hands to where the top of the dress stops, the ribbon framing the small dip between his pecs, “and definitely strange up here.” Sabo’s lips curve into a smirk, and Marco’s eyes follow Sabo’s hands to his still reddened nipples, the same colour of his lingerie. “But easy access, hm?”

Sabo runs his fingertips across them, his breath hitching as he does so, and then down the corset, tugging on the ribbon that graces the front. His lips move soundlessly, and Marco almost laughs, wondering if Sabo’s questioning why the corset doesn’t lace up in such a way that pulling the ribbon will leave the wearer unclothed, just like unwrapping a present. His hands go behind him, and Sabo turns with a hum, unzipping the corset and letting Marco see the light red places where the zipper has bit into Sabo’s muscular back.

He reaches for the next piece without looking, swaying as he hangs up the corset by the rest of the things he’s tried on, and Marco finds the hour trickling away as Sabo tries on outfit after outfit that he’d picked, each colour accompanied by a teasing word or joking innuendo, till Marco’s uncomfortably hard in his jeans, his cock pressing against the zipper.

As Sabo buttons up a dark blue shirt with lace along the shoulders, Marco shifts unhappily. His cock has started to pulse, his blood tinging his cheeks with heat, and Sabo’s own reaction to being watched hasn’t gone unnoticed, either. His every move has an edge of careful deliberation to it, and his cock is half-hard, the outline obvious in his underwear. This might be Marco’s last foray watching them, but so far he’s been unable to convince himself that he’s allowed to slip his hand down his pants, and really, isn’t this the point? Get his feelings out in one last, “just-for-him” performance, as though they do actually care, and then never ever think of them again.

And, really, if he doesn’t take his cock out of his boxers then it’s not like it’s on  _purpose._ He unzips his jeans with a sigh of relief, his other hand rooting in his desk till he finds the lube in the bottom drawer, and when his cold hand wraps around his cock he gives a hiss. A few quick strokes has him giving a soft moan, and he has to force himself to stop before he makes a mess and renders the last twenty minutes of this video pointless. His free hand moves to the remote on his desk, and Marco takes a deep breath.

He wonders if Sabo can keep quiet.

Sabo jolts on screen, his mouth falling open breathlessly, and his eyes go wide. “You- finally decided to use it, then, huh?” he asks, his voice beginning to shake, and Marco watches as his arousal makes precum darken the front of his panties. “Were you waiting for me to wear something you liked, or did you just get bored?”

Without letting him adjust, Marco again clicks the highest button on and off quickly, and Sabo bangs against the wall as his legs give out, a yelp escaping his lips. “ _Fuck,_ ” he hisses, giving a glare, but before he can say anything else a voice interrupts, calling,

“Sir? I heard a bang. Is everything alright?”

Sabo flushes even darker, and Marco watches him give a hard swallow. “I- y-yes, I’m fine, sorry! Just-” he casts a look at the camera, the slightest touch of fear and more than a little arousal in his eyes, as though he’s expecting Marco to turn up the vibrations- “got distracted by something and fell.”

“I notice that your friend has left-”

And Marco is not one to disappoint. As the attendant continues to speak, Marco turns the vibrator up another level, and Sabo presses his palm to his mouth to stifle his moan.

“Would you like me to get you anything else to try on?”

Sabo shakes his head, his eyes squeezed shut, then takes a breath and pulls his hand away. “N-nope!” he says, and the smile he wears is so obviously fake that even a stranger could notice it, “I’m fine, thank you. Just-” he takes another deep, shuddering breath, his voice cracking in the middle of his next sentence, “finishing up with the last few things.”

“Just call if you need any help!” the chipper voice says through the door, and Sabo barely manages a “mmhm” before Marco turns the vibrator up one last time and Sabo is forced to plaster his hand against his mouth to stop another moan.

“R-really?” he stammers when he finally can pull his hand away from his mouth, and Marco, though he knows Sabo can’t see, grins unapologetically. With his cheeks red like that and his body beginning to shake, Sabo is far too captivating  _not_ to tease. Especially considering how turned on he gets by the prospect of humiliation. Marco turns the vibrations down, and Sabo heaves a sigh of relief, his lips turning from a pinched, barely-controlled line to a smirk.

“So you were waiting for me to wear something you liked,” he says, a bit too cocky for Marco’s tastes right now, and though a tiny noise escapes him as he sits on the bench and crosses his legs in front of him, his back is still straight and his eyes are still clear.

 _Can’t have that,_ Marco thinks, and skips a setting to turn the vibrator up by two. Sabo’s mouth falls open at the pressure likely building inside him, and his chest jolts sharply with his open-mouthed pants. “W-was I w-wrong?” he asks, his hands tightening on his knees, and Marco edges the vibrations down and then right back up again. Sabo nods jerkily, his eyes unfocused. “R-right. Not what you w-want, then,” he says, and then uncrosses his legs with a whimper, trying to stand. His legs shake as he takes a step, lower lip quivering, and then Marco clicks the last button and Sabo’s hand shoots out to the wall to steady himself, a drawn-out whine escaping him. His hair falls in front of his face, steady whimpers falling from his lips as he tries to keep quiet, and Marco watches as his hand curls into a fist against the wall.

He forces himself straight again with another small cry, head tilted to the ceiling as though he’s praying, and takes another unsteady step forwards, finally reaching the stack of lingerie. “Sh-should have-” he says, every word unsteady as he carefully rifles through them and picks out one in the same dark purple as his socks, “picked your favourite colour first, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

The fabric slips through his fingers as he looks at it, a moment of contemplative pause, and Marco wonders what he’s thinking about. Wonders if he’s realised that this shirt isn’t from a lingerie store, and that it looks exactly like Marco’s; albeit, a few sizes smaller to fit Sabo’s frame. “P-picked it s-so it would match?” he asks, but this time Marco knows that Sabo isn’t expecting an answer.

He drapes the new shirt over his arm, and his shaking hands move to unbutton the shirt he’s currently wearing. The tremors in his body do little to help him get it off, however, and he leans back against the wall with a barely stifled moan, missing every buttonhole. “Ah-  _please_ ,” he says, his eyes screwed shut. “I c-can’t- not with-” his hips jolt forwards, desperate for touch, and he bites his lip, his hands slowing down and still shaking badly, but finally able to unbutton his shirt with more accuracy. The lace catches against his shoulders, and Sabo barely manages to brush it off, leaving it to slide off his skin and fall to a heap by his feet. Sabo makes a move to pick it up, then stops, his chest rising and falling and his body still braced against the wall.

He moves to slide the last shirt on, but Marco leans forwards and sends, “ _Don’t be so untidy.”_

When Sabo reads the message his breath hitches into a barely-stifled sob, and he looks at the camera with a plead in his eyes, his hands tight around the fabric and his back pressed against the wall. No such freedom is forthcoming, however, and his lower lip quivers.

Sabo steels himself with another deep breath, hanging the shirt he holds back on the hook, and then he kneels down, his hand braced against the wall. His eyes go wide with surprise when he’s almost down, and his free hand moves behind him quickly, but Marco can tell he’s accidentally pressed too hard on the vibrator when another loud moan leaves him and he sways back against the wall. Sabo’s hand is frozen as he pants, trying to regain control of himself, and then slowly, unwillingly, he lets out a sob and moves his hand away from his backside to the piled shirt. His knuckles go white when he grabs it, and Marco watches him take another deep breath in preparation to stand.

But he can’t.

Sabo’s eyes go wide, and he tries to push himself against the wall in an effort to help himself up, but his shaking legs refuse to support him and he ends up slipping, hitting the ground with a harsh jolt that makes his voice fly free of him yet again. He tilts his head back to moan, rutting against the air and grinding back down against the vibrator, and though his eyes are squeezed shut Marco can see silver on his eyelashes.

Heart thumping his chest, Marco can’t help but echo Sabo’s moan, softer, and fastens his hand around his cock, fingers wrapping around the base to stop himself from coming at that sight alone. “Gorgeous,” he breathes out, and wishes he knew what Sabo’s reaction to  _that_ would be.

Hips moving in tiny jolts, Sabo’s muscles tense and his teeth sink so far into his lip that it goes almost bloodless, his cheeks more than red enough to explain where the blood has gone. “Please,” he whispers desperately as he tries to cast a look at the camera, but he can’t keep his eyes open and can’t stop himself from writhing on the floor. “Please, I’m good, I’ve been good, haven’t I- just, let me-  _fuck,_ please.”

Marco can’t stop his hand from moving, no matter how hard he tries. The sight of Sabo in such desperation means there’s little he can do about his flagging self-control, and Sabo  _begging,_ as he so rarely ever does-

He cums with a groan, sinking his teeth into his lower lip to try and stifle it, and when he pulls his hand from his boxers can’t help but wince at the mess he’s made. A wet patch shows obviously against the blue fabric, and white is sticky on his fingers. He winces, and quickly turns back to the website, trying to ignore his embarrassment at coming before Sabo.  _He_ hadn’t had a vibrator pressed against his prostate going so hard that his legs gave out.

Then again, he also hadn’t been ordered to hold off until given permission.

“ _Please,_ ” Sabo whispers again, his head braced against the wall behind him and his heels digging into the floor, his legs flailing as he squirms.

 _“Stop yourself,”_ he types, and Sabo sobs when he sees the message but shoves his hand into his panties and grabs his cock, head falling forwards at the touch.

“God, you are so-” he says, but stops himself before he finishes, and Marco’s lips twitch. He’s heard  _that_ tone enough times to recognise when Sabo wants to swear, and amusement makes him type,  

“ _You still have one thing left to try. Then you can cum, if you like._ ”

Sabo glares at the camera, tears in the corner of his eyes, and says, “Of course I like.”

His cheeks go red as he realises his snappy tone, and he looks away, taking a deep breath before using his other hand to help himself to his feet. His legs are still shaking, and he’s swaying even though he’s trying to use the wall to steady himself. It takes two passes for him to snag the shirt off the hook, and then another long moment for him to catch his breath and slide his arm through one sleeve. He casts a look down at his other hand, still shoved down the front of his panties, and then he looks at the camera, his expression pained.

“ _Don’t make a mess yet,”_ Marco types, and wonders if Sabo can hear the laughter in his tone.

Sabo closes his eyes after he reads that message, and puts both hands down the front of his underwear, the purple fabric of the shirt slipping off his shoulder before he pulls the previously trapped hand free and slips the shirt on.  _Happy_? he seems to ask as he looks up at the camera, and Marco wonders how loudly Sabo will groan should he order the buttons done up.

“ _Don’t want you to fall over, go sit on the bench,”_ he says, and Sabo closes his eyes and manages the few steps to the bench, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sits down and his legs splay before him. His hand moves within his panties, slowly, then faster as his breath begins to catch, and Marco edges off the vibrations.

Sabo’s eyes snap open, frustration in his gaze, and Marco grins, his thumb alternating between the highest and the lowest in such brief frequencies that Sabo begins to squirm, mouth dropping open and the tiniest line of drool escaping his mouth. He whines, eyes squeezed shut as Marco bumps the vibration up again and leaves it there, and Sabo’s hand moves faster, as though he’s realised that this grace is the last one he’ll get.

And then-

“ _Marco,_ ” he calls, his voice almost dragging into a wail, and then he exhales and his hand seems to freeze. A wide wetness spreads across the front of his panties, the smallest trickle of white cum creeping down his inner thigh, and he slumps backwards with a soft exhale, his hand slipping free of his underwear. His fingertips drip with his cum, but Marco can do little with that knowledge but stare, mind still caught on the last thing Sabo had said.

The afterglow fades slowly, Sabo’s breathing evening out and his eyes kept closed lethargically, but Marco can see the moment reality hits. His eyes snap open, cheeks flaring bright red, and he casts a panicked look at Ace behind the camera.

“I didn’t-” he says, sounding mortified, and the last thing Marco hears is Ace laughing almost hysterically before the link shuts off entirely.

“He said-” Marco starts as he stares at the screen and his wide-eyed reflection, his brain looping Sabo’s last words and refusing to read the white words “connection malfunction, please refresh” right across his nose. “He said-”

In the middle of a private video, with no way of knowing Marco was watching - and no incentive for calling his name–

_Sabo had called his name._

Marco’s lips curl into a grin. Maybe this isn’t the last time he’ll get to hold his feelings in his heart before an epic slam dunk into repression. Maybe, instead, there were some things he should try talking to them about instead.

…or asking them to have sex with him, blatantly and boldly and probably while suppressing his stutters. He's thinking that might work out just fine too.


End file.
